Chapter 2

Dave Franklin tossed up the basketball and swished a three-pointer without hitting even the rim. Gabe had just walked into the gym, and he jogged to the basket, captured the ball and threw it back to the trainer, who primarily worked in fitness.

“Hey, Gabe.” Dave was Gabe’s height, about six feet, more muscular, and quick. “I guess I know why you’re here.”

“Word travels fast.”

“I’m friends with Marilyn. She told me about Seth and herself.”

Gabe whipped off his training jacket and, glad to be wearing sneakers, walked out on the court. “How about some HORSE?” A favorite among men, the game consisted of free throws where one player took a shot and if he made it, the other player got a letter. The first one to get HORSE lost.

“Sure.” Dave’s shrewd gaze was knowing. “And we can talk.”

“You go first.” After Dave scored another basket, Gabe retrieved the ball and said, “You’re second in seniority now among the trainers.”

“I am. And I want you to know that I’ll be happy to pitch in any way I can, but Gabe, I’m done climbing the Secret Service ladder.”

“After what happened to you, I think that’s pretty clear.” Dave had been one of the best agents in the service when, at thirty-five, while protecting the vice president, he’d taken a bullet in his side.

“I came to the training center because I was a phys ed teacher in my twenties and I liked the job but mostly because the touch-and-go surgery and long recuperation changed my priorities.”

When Dave took another toss at the basket and missed, Gabe went to the free throw line. Always the competitor, he eyed the basket and arced it up. The ball hit the rim and went in. When Gabe rebounded, he held on to it. “You know my job is easier than protective duty.”

“Yeah. Why do you want to go back anyway?”

“I didn’t get enough of protection.”

“And?”

“I’m here to ask if you want to take my place as director of the center.”

A deep frown marred Dave’s brow. “I’m not ready to train a class.”

“I’m staying for the upcoming class. And if the president will still have me, I’ll go to the PPD in December.”

“I don’t know, Gabe. The job carries a ton of responsibility and I’d have a lot to learn about administration and training for the next class.”

“How about an interim, then? Until we could find someone more permanent.”

“Hmm.”

To give him time, Gabe set up, lifted the ball, went on his tiptoes and threw it into the basket again. “We’re even.”

As he walked toward Gabe, Dave said, “Let me talk to Krista. But if I have an out, like Seth returning or a replacement, yeah, I can probably do it.”

Dave had been one of those agents who hadn’t married. Then after he was hurt, a woman he’d been dating was there for him. They fell in love, got married and moved to Maryland when he took a job here.

“No, don’t commit. Talk to the wife first.”

A small smile from his friend. “You’re probably right.”

* * *

Still shaky from Simon’s episode last night, Macy entered the school auditorium with her son and took seats in the plush chairs. The principal, Gary Preston, went to the microphone not much later. He was a young man in his thirties with seemingly endless energy, evidenced by this trip to take the small-school children away for a week.

“Hi, everyone. Welcome to the first meeting of the year. To the parents, we have Talk with the Teacher Night soon, but today’s meeting is to solidify plans for Camp Stepping Stones. The schedule is set, cabins assigned and fees paid. Remember, the purpose of the experience is to have fun, but it’s also about team building and camaraderie. I’ll play the video first.”

The leader of the camp came on screen. “Hello, campers. I hope you remember me from last year. For those new to the school or this place, I’m Mr. Jack.” He wore the camp T-shirt and a whistle draped around his neck. “Let me take you on a tour.” The camera panned out. Jack left the bright sunshine and headed down a treed path until he reached a building. “This is like the log cabins where you’ll stay for the week, four campers and one counselor.”

Macy appreciated the fact that the ratio of kids to adults was always small. Everything with this school was individualized.

Jack opened the door. “As you can see, we keep our surroundings clean and uncluttered for the comfort of everyone. No ‘tight ship’ aspect, but we do expect you to pick up after yourselves.”

Simon snorted. He knew this from the first time he attended, but he had a hard time keeping his room clean. Since he’d tried harder at home after the camp, Macy thought maybe the experience benefitted him.

The tour continued to water sports, and Simon beamed. The lake shone in the glittering sun and waves whooshed. Her son said, “I love the canoes.”

Next was the ropes course. The video showed a student grabbing on to a rope, taking a running leap and trying to swing past the marker several feet away. When he missed, the group pushed him on the second try. Another shot was of a girl, attempting to climb onto a log suspended above the ground. When she couldn’t manage to mount it, the kids in her class gave her a boost. She traversed the expanse with the others standing on either side. Both these exercises were intended to show teamwork and cooperation. Several other featured activities had the same goal.

When he finished the tour, Mr. Jack smiled at the camera. “This is what you have to look forward to. I’ll welcome you soon, campers.”

The video ended and the principal went to the mic. He announced that cabin assignments were being distributed. Simon eagerly awaited his, grabbed the envelope and tore it open. “Mom,” he said happily, “Joey’s in the same one with me.” Though the two boys had started to become friends of sorts at the end of the year, they hadn’t seen each other all summer.

“Yeah, baby, we asked for that. So did he.”

“Maybe he can come over before school starts.”

“That depends.”

“I know. If I’m good.”

After they finished with the meeting, Macy drove back to the house and Simon settled himself in front of an interactive video meant to help with math. Because it was animated, Simon took to these kinds of educational games. To be fair, she allowed him some of the guns-and-action-figures types, too.

Macy left him alone and went into the restaurant. She found her bartender, Sally Parker, taking inventory of the liquor. Like Macy herself, the woman had been working at Macy’s Place before Macy bought it, renovated and changed the name. Sally was a single mother of two boys, who sometimes played with Simon while their moms worked. “Hey, Sal.”

“Hi, Macy.” She looked up from the pad, her dark hair pulled back in a clip, her dark eyes smiling. “I came in a little early to do this.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“If I’m lucky, you might have to down the road.”

Macy knew that, for years, Sally had been scrupulously saving her money to get her own business. Since her mother lived with them, she stayed with the boys and Sally worked five nights. She subsisted mostly on her income and the child support the boys received from their father.

A grizzled voice came from the other end of the bar. She turned to see Henry Pease had come out of the kitchen. His white beard was trimmed and he had a bandana around his longish white hair.

“Hey, Henry. How’s your leg doing?”

“Better. I had a steroid shot this week.” Henry had been a soldier in Iraq when the US first went over there. He’d hurt his knee in combat.

“Glad you’re feeling better.”

He studied her. “You seem tired. Problem with Simon?”

“Actually, last night, but we went to a meeting about the camp the kids take at Stepping Stones, so he’s in a better mood.”

“Geez, I wish they had those things for normal school.” Sally blurted out the statement, then her eyes widened. “I’m sorry, Mace, I didn’t mean that Simon isn’t normal.”

“Simon has issues that most other kids don’t have. It’s why he qualifies for Stepping Stones.” She didn’t add that Sally should be grateful her boys were well-behaved. Her friend hadn’t meant to offend, though. And Simon could go only because they had the funds from Spike’s huge insurance policies to cover the cost.

“Henry, ready to go over the menu for next week? I have to grocery shop.”

“Yeah, I’ll go over the menu, no to the grocery shopping. I’m gonna do that this time.” He cocked his head. “Why don’t you go sit in the hammock and enjoy the day for a while?”

Because then I have to think about my problems with Simon, how lonely I am and Gabe. She especially didn’t want to think about Gabe.

* * *

“Nice to see you again, Mr. Kilmer.”

Gabe had met this trainee in June at Rowley when all twenty-four candidates had come to the center for their orientation and evaluation to get into the Secret Service. Then they went off to a ten-week program at the Federal Law Enforcement Training Center, called FLETC, where they’d be joined by more agencies’ personnel to learn basic skills.

Though they’d taken a battery of tests at the end of that course, the trainees’ first few days at Rowley would consist of short preliminary evaluations so the instructors could set their own baseline for firearm familiarity and timed firing sequences, physical fitness and knowledge of material. They’d been assigned a fair amount of reading, too, before classes started, which would acquaint them with the knowledge they’d need for special-agent training. Official courses would start Monday.

“Glad to see you too, Agent Marino.” A puzzled expression crossed his face.

“Do you have a question?”

“I didn’t expect to see you this time. I heard you were leaving Rowley to go to the PPD.”

“I am, but unforeseen circumstances will keep me here until December.” He motioned to Dave, also sitting in on these meetings. “This is Agent Franklin, and he’ll be working closely with us these next months.”

“Good morning, Agent Franklin.”

“You, too, trainee.”

Gabe smiled. “I’m glad to have you back, Kilmer.”

“Thank you.”

The young man, twenty-seven, seemed to know the drill. Respect. Hard work. Dedication. His dark gaze was sharp, his whole demeanor alert.

Picking up his file from FELTC, Gabe held it up. “Your reports have you tied for number one in your class.”

“I do my best.”

“We’ll see for ourselves. In any case”—he rapped his knuckles on the file— “I’m sure we have things we can teach you here.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Tell me about the other side of you. Family. Interests.”

“There’s my mother and father, four brothers, one sister. I’m into basketball, crime novels and spending time with my friends. No girlfriend, intentionally. That would challenge my focus.”

“Interesting.” He leaned forward and opened the file. “Now, let’s see what areas of the Secret Service might interest you the most.”

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

Macy sat at the bench under the shade of an oak tree at a nearby park with her sister. Warm rays filtered through the leaves and a slight breeze added to her pleasant time with Joanie, who lived in D.C. where she worked as a political lobbyist. She’d been fast-tracked by the company who’d hired her and was rising to be the best in the business.

“He seems okay today,” Joanie said as she watched Simon make his way across the rungs of horizontal bars. “But he threw a fit last week?”

“That’s what it’s like for him, Jo. Some days he’s fine. Others, he’s a terror.” Her mother’s heart turned over in her chest. “It must be hard living in his head.”

Her sister squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.” She sighed.

“Is he still upset about your friend Gabe leaving?”

“He won’t see him, though I think he’s weakening on that.”

“Maybe it’s for the best for him not to spend time with Gabe. He was scarred by how Spike lived and Gabe is going back to that same life.”

Macy gasped.

“Sorry to be so blunt, but you know the facts.”

Macy admitted Spike had been gone 50 percent of the time, and when he was home, he either doted on Simon or completely ignored him. The lack of consistency had fed Simon’s anxiety.

Time to change the subject. “So, how’s life in the city?”

“Crazy. But I love it. I’m working on a gun bill that Congress has finally agreed to take up.”

“Wow. That’s big news. God, I’m so out of it. I used to love the intrigue of politics.”

Joanie turned on the bench to face her more fully. “Do you ever wish you’d done anything different?”

“You mean not let myself get swept away by a dark-eyed Secret Service agent when I was twenty-two?”

“Yes, I mean that.”

“Truthfully, I do sometimes.” Given how shaky her marriage had been. She’d never told the details to anyone. Her sister did not know how difficult the first years were and the nightmare it became in the last five. She’d almost confided in Gabe once when he’d confessed his fall from grace in the agency, but shame had kept her silent. Now that he had a PPD job in the offing, she would never have the chance.

“You’re going to miss Gabe.”

Macy chuckled. “Can you read my mind?”

“No, I’d miss him, too. He’s a great guy. What a shame he screwed up.”

“He didn’t screw up. His men did.”

“Same thing in the world of politics.”

“I guess. I’m just glad he has another chance.” She didn’t mention the delay. Gabe was meeting with the president on Friday, and she’d wait until a final decision to tell Joanie and especially Simon that he might not be leaving right away. She chided herself for the kick her heart gave at the thought of having him around a bit longer. She cared about him a lot. Maybe too much.

What was with her and Secret Service agents anyway?

* * *

Mary Jane Hogan was not what Gabe expected her to be from her file. Though there were photos, they didn’t capture her toned and developed muscles, her proud carriage and her intense blue eyes. “So, Ms. Hogan,” he said again, holding up the folder. “Tell me something about yourself that’s not in here.”

For a minute, her expression was amused. “I was a cheerleader, sir.”

His jaw dropped. Dave, next to him, chuckled.

She gave him a real smile, softening the lines of her face. “I know, it doesn’t fit me now, but I was trying to be something I wasn’t then. My sister was captain of the squad and in a sorority, so I followed in her footsteps.”

He tried to keep the humor out of his voice. “What happened?”

“In college, away from my family, I could be anybody I wanted, so the real MJ came out.”

He glanced at the file. “You garnered several honors when you graduated from Columbia.”

“I have good study habits, which helped keep my grades up.”

“Other interests?”

“I love to swim.”

He checked the file again. “Hmm, not sure I’ve ever seen perfect scores in swimming, water safety and comfort in the water.” Agents had to be able to effect rescues if a car or plane landed in the water. Several years ago, Air Force One crashed into the Caribbean. An agent was killed because he was unable to save himself after other men got the protectee to safety. “Are you considering specializing in aquatics?”

Her light brown brows, the exact color of her hair, skyrocketed. “No, I’m going for the PPD.”

So am I. But he didn’t betray himself. “Your top-notch scores will be important in that.”

“I hope that aspiration doesn’t sound arrogant, Agent Marino. My father told me to say out loud what I wanted or I’d never get it.”

“Your father is a wise man.” He thought of his pa and how he gave sage advice. One of the most valuable pieces was Make sure what you’re going after is what you want. “Tell me more about your family,” he said sincerely.

* * *

Gabe showed up at Macy’s door Wednesday night at exactly six thirty. Punctuality was a highly regarded necessity in the Secret Service. Besides, women appreciated men not keeping them waiting. “Ready to go?” he asked her.

She smoothed down the peach skirt she wore with a matching top. “As ready as I’ll ever be. I hate these things. The camp meeting was impersonal. But tonight, we’ll talk about Simon. I always feel like I’m a bad mother, that I should be doing more.”

As they walked to the car, he linked their arms. The closeness felt…good. “In no way are you a bad mother. And you don’t have to do this alone, Mace. I’ll help you deal.”

For now, she thought but of course didn’t say the words aloud. She’d be grateful for what she had.

“Simon doesn’t come to these?”

“No, he’s not invited. This is for parents to discuss the upcoming school year and get advice from the teacher to help out at home with the curriculum.”

“Who’s with him?”

“Joanie took him to dinner.”

They reached his car, a sporty BMW, which suited him because it was classy and dependable. She slid into the cool comfort of the vehicle and let herself sink into the butter-soft leather. She sniffed. The inside smelled like him. He didn’t use cologne, but soap or shampoo or maybe just his essence surrounded her.

They made small talk until they reached Stepping Stones Academy, in a suburb of Maryland. The private school was set on three acres of land, which included fields for sports, three smaller structures for the arts and administration and a big brick classroom building with a surprisingly modern decor. They accepted only grades five through twelve, and they cut off enrollment at eighty students.

Side by side, she and Gabe made their way to Simon’s room, the same one as last year. The space was bright, with a bank of windows, durable but attractive carpeting and a series of tables and padded chairs. The school made an effort to make the kids comfortable.

The group, parents of eight children, all with special needs, waited patiently for the teacher. In minutes, she walked through the door and stood in front of the class. The woman was tall and wearing heels. Her auburn hair was cut to her chin and her pink suit flattered her build.

“Hello, everyone. Good to see you again.” Carrie Conrad had been Simon’s teacher last year, too. Each instructor had students for two years. “As you know, I’m planning to meet with you individually for a half hour tonight. When you’re not with me, you’ll go to the enrichment centers, which include art, music, fitness and psychological support systems and talk with the staff. There’s been some upgrades in all those areas, thanks to the fundraising you all helped with. But first, we’ll have an overview of the Stepping Stones’ mission and vision. She fiddled with her computer and on the front screen appeared a list of goals for the year.

To provide a safe and nurturing environment.

To be an effective program, developmentally appropriate, student-centered, comprehensive, individualized and family focused.

To facilitate students having fun while learning to get along with their peers.

To stimulate their talents, abilities, strengths and diagnose weaknesses of all.

To respect and support all students in the context of their family, culture and developmental needs.

To be flexible and individualized when planning for communication, cognitive, adaptive, motor and social needs of students.

To help students grow in curiosity, creative thinking and decision-making.

From there, Carrie went on to discuss the particular goals for their classroom. After fifteen minutes of generalities, she said, “I think that’s enough for philosophy. Let’s get down to the nitty-gritty.” She checked the white board behind her. “First, I’d like to meet with Macy Stevens. The rest of you can go on to the other locations I described earlier and be back at your designated times.”

When the room emptied of parents, Carrie Conrad approached her and Gabe. She pulled up a chair across from them. “Hello, Macy.”

“Carrie. This is Gabe Marino, a friend.”

The poor woman tried to conceal it, but a flare of interest sparked in her eyes. And why not? Gabe wore a pair of black dress pants with a gray silk shirt rolled up at the sleeves. His body lazed back into a comfortable position that exuded confidence.

“Hello, Mr. Marino.”

“Hello, Carrie. Call me Gabe. Macy told me people here are informal.”

A smile lit her face. “Gabe then. May I ask your relationship to the family? It’s always good to know if there are new people in a child’s life.”

“I’m a friend of Macy’s. I worked with her husband. But I like to spend time with Simon.”

“Simon listens to Gabe more than anyone.”

“Ah. Then perhaps I could show you something.” She stood and they followed her to a bulletin board. On it were examples of student work from the spring. Across the top, in big red letters was Who I Admire. Beneath that were eight essays. The school provided laptops so all papers could be typed.

“The students were asked to write about someone using pronouns only. Other than that, they could say anything they wanted without identifying the individual.”

Macy watched as Gabe searched for Simon’s paper, which her son had already shown to her. When he found it and began to read, his eyes widened, and Macy thought she saw a bit of moisture in them, but it was gone quickly.

“I don’t know what to say.” He stepped back and stuck his hands in his pockets. “I knew he liked spending time with me, but this…” He turned a bright smile on Carrie. “I’m touched.”

Almost unnoticeably, the woman leaned closer to Gabe. “You’re a good role model.”

They reseated themselves. “Let me give you an update. Simon had mostly good days in the spring. He seems to like it here. But still, there have been a few incidents where I’ve had to send him to counseling for misbehaving. I alerted you to that, Macy.”

“Yes. I appreciate that you keep me informed.” After Macy filled her in on Simon’s summer activities, she asked, “What can I do to reinforce his work here at home?”

“Help with his homework like you do now.” She gave a few more suggestions. “And try to keep your family life as stable as possible. The psychologist says he needs stability very much, given his father died.”

When their time with Carrie ended, they both stood. Carrie slipped something out of her pocket. “Macy, do you have my card?”

“Yes, from last year.”

She turned to Gabe. “Would you take one, Agent Marino? In case you need to call me.” She blushed prettily. “For anything.”

The meeting ended and they left the school. Macy was silent and Gabe seemed thoughtful. In one way, she was amused at Gabe’s effect on women. But she was also choking on the jealousy she felt at the teacher’s flirtation with him.

* * *

When Gabe got back to his condo after the night at school, he grabbed a beer and went outside to sit on one of his comfy chaises on the patio. The temperature was high, still, but he liked the fresh air. In his mind, he ran through the evening. Macy looked cute. Her reddish-blond hair had been set off by the pretty outfit she wore, and she’d even put on a bit of makeup. Casual but chic.

By contrast, the teacher had been dressed in designer clothes—he knew because he’d read up on them for an assignment once. Not the style he favored.

And she’d flirted with him. Had he flirted back? He hoped not, though the attention she showed him had been obvious. She wasn’t his type, not that he had a type in mind.

Jesus, buddy, you are a liar.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, Macy fit the bill. He knew that almost immediately, but over the years, he kept those kinds of feelings in a box labeled Do Not Open.

She’d been quiet on the way home. God, he hoped it wasn’t because he’d paid too much attention to Carrie. Women picked up on things like that even when men were totally clueless.

Taking out his phone, he clicked into his contacts. He’d already texted Simon to tell him they’d had a good talk with his teacher. The boy had not responded.

He called up Macy’s contact info and typed, Thanks for asking me to come to school tonight. Did everything go all right for you? You were quiet on the way home.

He held the phone until it pinged. We got a good report on Simon.

That told him nothing. So he sent another back. Sure nothing was wrong?

A little longer wait. He was thinking about calling her when he got an answer. At the end, I kind of felt like a third wheel with Ms. Conrad flirting with you.

Oh, shit. Yeah, but I didn’t flirt back.

You never flirt.

The devilish side came out of him. For some reason, he didn’t want to let this go. I don’t? Should I do more of that?

I wouldn’t mind.

What does that mean, Macy?

Nothing. I’m tired. I shouldn’t have said anything. Good night, Gabe.

Don’t go, Mace.

But there were crickets from the other end.

Gabe sighed into the darkness. And chided himself. What the hell was he doing flirting with her now?

You want to take this further, always have, the devil side taunted.

“Shut up,” he said aloud, got up and went into the house.

* * *

The next morning, Macy washed her face in the bathroom that she’d renovated. But she took no pleasure in the slate walls, white trim, claw-footed tub or the white-brushed plank flooring she’d laid herself. Not even in the whimsical mural of mermaids she’d painted on one wall. Instead she was embarrassed.

What had gotten into her last night to tell Gabe he didn’t flirt enough?

You know.

Yeah, she did. She was jealous, and she lost control of her feelings for him, feelings they’d tacitly agreed never to act on.

She thought back to the early days after she met Gabe. He and Peter Camp and Spike were on the same detail. The group socialized together, and Gabe had taken an interest in Simon, even before Spike had died. Then Gabe had been promoted to special agent in charge of the VPPD. So he hadn’t been on the operation the night her husband had been killed. Soon after, he’d been sent to the training center.

When he’d found out about Spike, he’d come to see her at their house in Maryland…

“Oh, Gabe,” she’d said, throwing herself into his arms.

“I’m so sorry, Macy.” He held her close. “So sorry.”

He’d caught sight of Simon peeking out of the hallway. “Come over here, son.”

Simon had thrown himself at Gabe, too. The three of them had bonded in the moment…

In the intervening years, Gabe had made a point of helping her. When the owner of the bar where she worked wanted to sell the business and was willing to give her a break on the price, Gabe worked through her finances with her…

“Mace, you’ve got a ton of money. Secret Service insurance. Death-in-the-line-of-duty benefits.”

“I know.”

“Of course, you’d rather have Spike alive.”

Apparently, Spike had never indicated discord in the marriage, either. She had no idea what agents talked about with each other.

“I think I can afford to buy the place, especially because it has a big apartment in the back and I can sell the house, but I wanted your opinion…”

Now she wondered if she’d bought the restaurant so she could stay in close proximity to Gabe. She told herself it was a solid investment and she’d have a built-in clientele with the training center nearby. But by then, Simon had been acting out, and Gabe seemed to be the one who could set him straight. And, of course, the school was close by.

From the hallway, she heard, “Mom?”

“In here, honey.”

Simon came to the door of the bathroom.

“Did you sleep well?”

“I guess.” He toed the edge of the carpet with his sneaker. “Um, Gabe texted me last night. How come you didn’t tell me he was going to my school?”

“Because you’ve been staying away from him. This was planned before you got so mad at him.”

“Who says I’m mad?”

“You do, by the way you’ve been cutting him out.”

He gave the sound with his mouth that teens and preteens knew instinctively would irritate their parents. Then, “Did he, um, see my paper?”

“Yes.”

“What’d he say?”

“That he was touched by it. I know what you wrote meant a lot to him.”

Shaking his head, her boy walked away.

She’d made a mistake, she guessed, by letting Gabe become such an integral part of their lives. They were both having trouble with his leaving.

* * *

Unfortunately, not all the new trainees were replicas of Kilmer and Hogan. From Clay Langston’s file, Gabe had gleaned a lot about the guy. He slouched on the chair and was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. Gabe began his spiel. “So, Mr. Langston, tell me something that isn’t in here.”

The boy’s gray eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what’s in there.”

“Statistics on your training, general success at FLETC, and comments on attitude.”

He glanced away. Gabe didn’t see the arrogant 25-year-old this time. He saw a conflicted young man.

“I’m, um, looking forward to being an agent.”

“You’re right. Your file doesn’t indicate that you are.”

Langston seemed surprised. “Seriously?”

The kid actually didn’t know how he came off?

“Your psychological evaluation questions your dedication. At FLETC, you challenged your instructors on everything.”

“Some of them were assholes.”

“And that remark makes me think you don’t want to be here.”

Vulnerability etched itself on Langston’s face. It reminded Gabe of the way Simon looked sometimes. “I did okay on first aid.” Agents were EMTs, having had forty hours of medical training, and all certified in CPR. “And the physical stuff.”

“You did, but that won’t get you through.”

“I gotta do good here. I can’t…it would…I wanna be here, honest. Okay, sometimes, I have trouble with authority. But I’m working on that.”

“The Secret Service is a paramilitary organization. Following rules is a requirement.”

Langston blew out a heavy breath. “We started off on the wrong foot, Agent Marino.” He glanced at his clothes. “I should’ve dressed differently.” He sat up straight. “Give me another chance. Please.”

Why? Gabe wondered. But it wasn’t for him to judge that. “I’ll accept your request. This time. But not again. You squander this opportunity and you’ll be out.”

When Clay left, Gabe picked up his file again. He’d been rushed when he perused the last of the trainees. So he leafed through the file again and read Clay Langston’s biological history. He didn’t have to dive too deeply. Parents: Susan Silver—US congressperson. Father—Clayton, Sr., Secretary of the Interior.

Hmm. The boy had a lot to live up to. Gabe wondered if he could ever do it.